


I get to love you

by GaneWhoo



Series: The Super-Believer [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Love, M/M, Multi, Super Believer, Swan Queen - Freeform, angst with happy ending, supercat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 12:25:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6956365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaneWhoo/pseuds/GaneWhoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Henry Swan-Mills & Carter Grant-Danvers growing up side by side, falling in love with each other and getting married, happily joking about the super long last name that Grant-Mills-Danvers-Swan is (and even if Regina & Cat are often arguing about which one comes first, the order doesn’t really matter)</i>
</p><p>-----</p><p>“I found him, Sweetheart.”</p><p>It took all of your breath away from your lungs and suddenly, you no longer wanted to know. You were desperate to push off the answer to that unspoken question, that damned interrogation. Because not knowing was hope.</p><p>“He’s alive. Barely, but he’s alive and currently in surgery, in National City’s Hospital. I’m on my way to get you”</p><p>-----</p><div class="center">
  <p>Second piece of the super believer serie</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	I get to love you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [superscavenger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/superscavenger/gifts).



> Hi guys !
> 
> The usual few things first :
> 
> \- I'm not a native english speaker and this might not be flawless, feel free to point out any mistake  
> \- This is pure fiction and I adapted the shows how I wanted to, so don't be too surprised  
> \- The title is a song by Ruelle and it inspired me for this  
> \- This is the second piece of a serie, you might want to read the first before this one.  
> \- This is a little angsty, please don't be mad at me ♥
> 
> Have fun and let me know if you liked it ;)

\-----

The first time you actually said those three little words to him, you were twenty eight and he had not heard them.

He hadn’t been able to.

You could have laughed, really, if you hadn’t been so worried sick about him. You watched over him, praying to whatever gods you knew for him to wake up. You wanted him to open his brown eyes, to make a funny face and to even crack a joke, just so you could finally breathe. You needed to hear his voice, low and probably a little hoarse from the lack of water, say something stupid about True Love’s Kiss curing anything. You were desperate for a smile or even just a blink.  
Anything but this everlasting silence that was slowly killing you. 

Ten days. He had been unconscious for ten days and it was driving you crazy. 

You had refused to leave his side for three days before your mother had actually dragged you home. 

The smaller one, the mighty Cat Grant, the queen of all media.  
Even with your twenty eight years and the fact that you were much taller than her, she managed to get you home for a shower and a restless night of nightmares and cries. The next morning, you barely ate when she put a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of you. You didn’t even notice the fact she had cooked something not very healthy. Instead, you asked in a cold, low tone “Where is Supergirl?”

She winced and you saw it. You never used that term to call your younger mother, before. But you were too angry to feel guilty for hurting her and you asked again.  
Her voice was sad when she whispered “She’s at the DEO. They had to sedate her. Honey, it wasn’t her fault, you know?” You snorted and pushed the plate, feeling sick in your stomach. 

All you could think about was what had happened, almost two weeks ago.

Henry had been downtown that day. Of course. First, you had been mad at him for not staying in his home office, like he usually did when he didn’t have to run the publishing house. Then you had remembered.  
He was meeting some friends from when he was at BCU, a couple with two kids. You hadn’t really been listening when he had talked to you about them because at the same time, you were trying to send off a very important email to your human resources director. This morning, you had kissed him goodbye, had wished him a good day and he hadn’t even reminded you that he was meeting some friends. He had probably thought you would remember by yourself. 

But you hadn’t and when you first heard that Supergirl had gone off the rails, you thought he was probably watching the news from your living room. 

You were in your office, inside of the Super Grant Technologies building you owned. It was way up north of National City because you needed both space and privacy. You were discussing business over the phone, speaker on, while pacing the floor between your desk and the two facing couches you had recently added, separated by a coffee table. A huge flat screen behind your desk was displaying a live stream of what was happening downtown. You never tried to hide the fact your office was inspired by the one your mother decorated, at CatCo. However, yours was darker and more masculine, with less glass and more steel. It was very minimalistic and you had no problem admitting you were almost an obsessive freak when it came to how it had to be tidied. 

You were on the verge of losing your temper when the TV screen caught your attention. You had known the commentator since you were a kid. He was older now, with gray hair and wrinkles all over his usually smiling face. You frowned, because just then he wasn’t smiling at all. He actually looked scared and you understood why the very next second.  
Supergirl was demolishing a building, using her heat vision to sweep the lower floors and watching as the batiment collapsed on itself. A close up showed her laughing before she took off, flying away. You were too shocked to react and it took your interlocutor several tries before you reacted, saying you would call him back soon. You ended the discussion without even waiting for him to answer.

Your mother called next, the CEO one. Like many years ago, she tried to reassure you but this time, you were much older and more important, Supergirl didn’t seem in any danger at all. She just acted strangely but no one was fighting her. Your mother told you Supergirl’s brain was altered by something called Red Kryptonite and you frowned.  
You were a scientist and of course, you had worked on Kryptonite before but you never heard of any red one. She explained to you it was a legacy of Maxwell Lord, his last weapon to destroy National City’s most beloved alien. Max had been dead for a few years now but his nephew wanted to take over the title and he had even tried to buy back Lord Tech but Carter had refused. It had made him bitter and angry. Red Kryptonite was something he had been working on and obviously, he had succeeded. 

Then, you saw Supergirl throw a dumpster trunk on a coffee shop and somewhere, in the back of your mind, something tilted. You didn’t know what and yet you frowned, trying to put a finger on it. You saw her laugh and throw a car on the same coffee shop, as people were trying to escape, screaming, crying and calling for help. Supergirl looked annoyed and she threw another car before flying out.

“Carter. Carter? Honey, don’t worry. I’m sure he’s fine, he should have been out by now.”

It took you a full minute before registering what your mother was saying, on the phone. “Mom, what are you talking about?”

The silence was suddenly deafening and your frown got deeper. Then you heard “Oh, Honey. You … Henry told us a few days ago he was meeting with some friends from Boston, in …”

The coffee shop. The one Supergirl had demolished with a truck and two cars.

“Mom, I have to go. I’ll call you.”

You called Henry’s phone. Once. Twice. Twelve times, still nothing. It rang and rang and rang but no one picked up. You had a panic attack and your assistant handled it well, telling you to breathe in and then breathe out, not touching you but keeping a water bottle nearby. It passed and you urged him to do everything, and you meant it, everything to get ahold of Henry.  
He was very, very competent. You knew it before even hiring him. After all, he had been sent your way by your mother, famous for the number of assistants she had fired before finding the one and only Kara Danvers. Kara had been Cat’s assistant for two years, before being promoted to Junior Editor and eventually, wife of the Queen of all media. You were only three years old back then and as far as you could remember, Kara had been there. Always.

That’s why you were having such a hard time understanding what just happened. Your mother, your superhero, had destroyed the building your husband was in. 

You were acutely aware of every minute, hell, every second that ticked that day.  
You struggled just to breathe and your brain was already picturing every worst case scenario. You checked your phone every few seconds and each time your screen lit up with a notification, your heart missed a beat. You didn’t know what was best. Not knowing, because then Henry could still be alive or knowing and have that hope taken away. You wanted to do something. Anything. But you were trapped inside of your own company complex, for security reasons. Kara had helped design that very security system and now you understood why. 

You wanted to reach out to the only person that could have helped you but it was the same person responsible for that disaster.

Supergirl had gone off the rails.

Your other mother called you around 6:00 PM, as she was watching the news. Supergirl was down, Alex had shot her with a non-modified kryptonite gun and it had weakened the superhero enough for the DEO to capture her and take her away. 

“I found him, Sweetheart.”

It took all of your breath away from your lungs and suddenly, you no longer wanted to know. You were desperate to push off the answer to that unspoken question, that damned interrogation. Because not knowing was hope.

“He’s alive. Barely, but he’s alive and currently in surgery, in National City’s Hospital. I’m on my way to get you”

You said thank you and then hung up, falling to your knees to thank whatever gods for Henry’s life. Your mother found you there, shaking and hiccuping and she slowly helped you up. She was so small, you noticed. So old, too. Once upon a time, that thought would never have crossed your mind but seeing the wrinkles around her tired green eyes, the strands of white in her usually ash blond hair and the infinite worry etched upon her features, you couldn’t help but find her old. 

A few hours later, after what felt like forever, Henry was finally out of surgery. Doctors said he was … stable.

Stable.

He looked so out of place, in the hospital bed that was too small, wearing the mandatory white clinical pajamas. An oxygen mask was helping him breathe and he had multiple tubes connecting his body to all sorts of medical machines. The room was strangely noisy, due to all those machines purring all the time, beeping and whispering datas you didn’t understand.

He was stable.

He had a broken leg, a broken wrist, a broken clavicle, multiples broken fingers, bruises and cuts all over his body, dust in his lungs and blood in his brain provoking all sorts of potential very serious damage, if not a total amnesia which was, according to the doctor, the best scenario in his case.

You almost laughed nervously when the doctor said he forgot to add Henry had a sprained ankle. How random it was, in comparison to all the injuries the surgeon had listed.

But he was stable.

After being almost buried alive under concrete, leg crushed by a piece of wall and dust preventing him from breathing, he was stable.

He may never wake up. 

The blood in his brain was the most concerning injury and the neurosurgeon, the best Cat could find, was not optimistic.

You didn’t leave his side for three days, short of some necessary trips to the bathroom. You dozed off when you couldn’t help it, head on your arms on Henry’s mattress, waiting for something. You were so, so worried you didn’t even think about being angry instead.

Your mother finally dragged you home and you asked about the other one. The fallen superhero one.

It took you three more days to be able to forgive your younger mother.  
She came in one night, you didn’t hear her enter the room.

She was wearing dark clothes, a world away from the colorful cardigans, dresses and skirts she once wore. A pair of deep denim blue jeans, a black t-shirt and a charcoal hoodie and under the dim light of the hospital’s neons, she seemed older than usual. 

She approached Henry’s bed but stayed a few feet away and you looked up at her. 

You saw the guilt swim on the surface of those usually bright and shining blue eyes. She was back to herself and she was broken, damaged, haunted. You didn’t say anything, your anger deflating just like that. You knew it wasn’t her, who had done all those terrible things. Still, you needed someone to blame and you chose her. It was easier that way.

She stayed with you all night and somehow, you felt a little better with her around.

You heard her leave around 5:30 AM and a few minutes later, Emma entered the room. She would always come between 5:30 and 6:00 AM, since the first morning. She would never said anything, sitting next to you with a blank face and a strong frown. Regina would usually come around noon, with sandwiches for everyone. Sometimes, you would even try to eat a few bites but never the full thing. You were grateful for the coffee, though. 

Henry still hated coffee. He was thirty years old by now and he still drank hot cocoa in the morning. You thought it was sweet, even if he had this habit to put cinnamon on it. You never understood how he could like the taste, it was too strong and it erased the cocoa flavor but he didn’t bother to explain it now. Still, it didn’t stop you from kissing him right after he drank a full cup of the weird drink. You loved it, on his lips.

You missed him. It had been seven days now and he was still stable.

You missed his arms around you, his warm skin against yours and the sound of his voice. Since you were six years old, that voice had kept you grounded in the moment, anchored to reality. Sometimes, to get your attention, he would call you Little Grant and the way your name echoed, with that low and husky tone, was just turning you on. He knew it and he used it, you would always give in. 

He had been your husband for barely a year and you were so scared he was going to die, to leave you here without him, in this scary world, in your big empty house, in this future that seemed so dark. First, he had been a friend, then your best friend, then your lover and finally, after a short engagement, your husband. He had been in your life for more than twenty years now and you couldn’t even begin to imagine a world without him in it. 

On the eighth night, you witnessed the silent confrontation between Regina and your superhero mother. 

Everyone knew about Kara being Supergirl, it was implicit and no one ever talked about it. Kara knew that Henry’s mothers were aware of her secret. Cat knew that too. Emma and Regina never said anything but the Grant-Danvers just knew it wasn’t a secret anymore. 

That’s why you were terrified Regina would do something to your younger mother. 

It was the first time Regina came at night, she usually visited around noon. Kara knew that because she was trying to avoid her on purpose. You should have known, that Regina would have none of it.

You watched them, noticing the straight and neutral posture of Regina and the way your mother was hunched, waiting for a blast that wasn’t coming. Finally, after almost ten minutes of this suffocating tension, the brunette broke the silence. 

“I know you aren’t really responsible for this, Supergirl.”

Kara looked up at the small woman in front of her, surprise etched on her face. You were confused too, to be honest. 

You loved Regina almost like a mother and you had loved her since the moment you first met her, many years ago. Henry told you once it was still surprising how you were comfortable around his brunette mother. Sure, you liked Emma very much too but it was different. Every time you had needed to talk to someone who wasn’t your mothers or Henry, you would turn to Regina. She was quiet, always calm and a very good listener. You turned to Emma for actions and to Regina for talks and advice.  
They were like the sun and the moon and yet, you admired the way they loved each other. 

Regina talked again and your heart dropped. “However, if he never wakes up, I will never forgive you for that. Never.“

Kara slowly nodded. She understood, it was only fair. You were slightly worried for her, still. She was back to her own self but now, she had to live with all that she had done and it was destroying her. You had always known your younger mother was too kind for this world. 

Kara left the room without a word and Regina came to sit next to you. You didn’t try to talk and she stayed quiet too, watching her thirty year old son breathe through an oxygen mask. You had asked her, on the first day of Henry’s coma, why a True Love's Kiss couldn’t save him and she had answered, sadly, that it only worked on curses and not on real life injuries. 

It had been ten days and you were starting to lose hope.

Night was falling over National City, you watched as the sun slowly got behind the high towers of downtown, what was left of it anyway. The city was still trying to recover from the Red Supergirl episode, like your media mogul mother had called it. A dozen of people had died, which was truly impressive from an external point of view. National City Downtown was still a warzone, with cars everywhere.  
Some of them were entirely burnt or melted down by Supergirl’s heat vision and others were in the middle of engineering floors, shops and even parks, thrown there by the fallen superhero. Some of the most ancient buildings had been destroyed and it had taken almost a full week for the firemen and medical staff to be able to pull out the bodies.  
The final result was fourteen dead and Kara couldn’t look at herself in a mirror. 

Your eyes left the window to wander over Henry’s silhouette. You almost smiled when you noticed the beard growing on his face.

It had started when he was somewhere around twenty. All of a sudden, facial hair was invading the lower part of his face and not just a little. It was a full real beard, as dark as his hair and he had been proud of it, back then. You didn’t like it that much but you never said anything, he had guessed on his own. Every two or three days, he shaved because he knew you weren’t fond of the sensation of his beard on your body, against your skin. It was soft enough but you didn’t like it anyway.

Yet, somewhere along all these years you shared with him, you got used to it. You didn’t mind it as much as you first did and sometimes, a week could go by before you would frown at him. He understood, just with one look, and shaved the very next morning. 

You, on the other hand, were always clean-shaved, since you first noticed you had facial hair. You hated it, on yourself. Henry would look like a man with a stubble but you were stuck between a baby face and a teenager one, never really comfortable with it. That’s why you shaved carefully every morning, before pulling on a fancy british three piece suit, a pair of italian polished shoes and an expensive swiss watch. You had expensive taste and you knew where it came from, or rather whom. Henry had made fun of you, once or twice but you saw the look on his face when you dressed up. His brown eyes dark from desire, swallowing thickly and trying to keep his hands to himself. He failed, many times. Those were the mornings you were late for work but you didn’t mind a bit. 

You thought about what he would say, seeing you with a three-day stubble, wearing a pair of denim jeans and a random t-shirt hidden under one of his hoodies. It was his favorite. You remembered, you offered it to him as a joke. It was large, light-grey and the Supergirl coat of arms was plastered on the torso, in black and white. It smelled like cinnamon, ocean and Henry’s natural scent. A mixture of wood and white musk, strong and heady. You had drowned in that perfume for the last two days and you couldn’t think of taking the sweater off. You were comfy and it acted like an armor, preventing you from really falling apart.

You heard footsteps coming from the hallway and you recognized the sound. Your mother came in quietly, walking over to sit next to you. You nodded at her, saying hello without opening your mouth, you were afraid to hear the sound of your own voice. 

“You know, the first time I saw this little boy coming your way on the beach, I was scared.” Her voice was low and soft and you blinked at the sound of it. She didn’t wait for you to react. “I was afraid he’ll hurt you, because you were so quiet, so calm, always keeping it to yourself and I wanted to protect you from all the bad things of this world. You were only six years old.”  
You tilted your head, listening to her with a rapt attention. 

“Yet, he didn’t talk to you. He was just there, searching for seashells with you and I watched as the two of you walked along the ocean. I thought he was sweet but that was it. You brought him with you a few days later and he was so polite, I was impressed. I liked him, right away.”

You smiled at that, because you remembered your mother had indeed said Henry was a very sweet boy.

“I watched you as you both grew up. Kara was oblivious to that, I think, but I saw it rather early. The way he looked at you, the way he looked after you even. He protected you, every single time and I know you were aware of that, even back then.” You arched a brow and turned slightly to your left to look at her. She was smiling, seeing right through you.

“Yes, I know for a fact you told him the name of the boy responsible for your broken arm and that he broke that boy’s nose. You wouldn’t even tell me how you broke your arm in the first place, so I know you were aware of the fact he was protecting you.” You looked a little sheepish at that but she didn’t notice.

“I saw the look on his face, the night he helped you get ready for your junior prom. That’s when I knew for sure he was in love with you. I still don’t know how I had missed it before, though.”

Your heart ached at the memory and you squirmed a little on your chair. It was, still after all these years, an uneasy thought and you wanted to bury it under the new ones you’d made with Henry. 

“He was so nervous, when he asked us permission to marry you. When he left that night, after we gave him our blessing, Kara asked me why he was so nervous after more than twenty years being around you. I laughed and told her love was a funny thing. I think she’s still trying to figure out what it means.”

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. Those were happy memories but it brought to you the realization that you might not have a future with him. That it was just that, memories. 

“Mom” you whispered, afraid to speak any louder. She heard you anyway and you looked up as she stood up to get behind you. You felt her arms around your neck and you reached out to hold on to her hands, not able to keep up appearances anymore.

You broke into a sobbing mess, hiccuping and choking on your tears as they were running down your cheeks.

She didn’t say anything and you were grateful for it. It wasn’t a surprise though. Cat Grant never used words in vain and she wasn’t about to start. 

It took you over an hour to stop crying, slowly coming down to a dozy state of mind. Your mother kissed your temple and said goodbye, leaving you alone with your comatose husband. The machines around you were still purring and beeping, you had come to hate that noise, even if it meant he was alive. You hated that steady but so ever so slow heartbeat, the sound of each drop coming down the intravenous tube and the low purr of the oxygen machine. He was alive but he was only stable and there had been no evolution since he’d come out of surgery.

He’d never had any health issues before. 

You were the one used to the hospital procedures, the wait, the many forms to fill, the itching blouses, the rushing doctors and nurses. Broken bones, breathing difficulties, severe migraines and all sort of necessary surgeries, you knew this hospital like the back of your hand. He had been with you every single time, knowing you so very well he could actually fill all your medical forms without your help, always making sure you had something to drink for when you would wake up but most importantly, making sure he was the first person you would see when you woke up.

That’s why you were terrified of leaving his room, afraid he would wake up without you by his side. You’d already failed him by not listening to him when he’d talked to you about his Boston’s friends, you didn’t want to add something else he could blame you for at the list.  
You only left him once a day, to go home take a shower, shave your face and put fresh clothes on. Your mother, the media mogul one, never let you leave the house without eating something so you managed to take a few bites of the plate she put in front of you on your way out.

“Henry Grant-Mills-Swan-Danvers, don’t you die on me,” you whispered, almost to yourself. Hesitantly, you reached out to touch his cheek. It was not as warm as it usually was but it wasn’t cold like a dead body, you were content with small victories. You let out a dry laugh and whispered “Oh Henry, you’ll need to shave that beard, it’s getting out of control, really.”  
It was almost a joke because you were so glad it was there, as a sign of life. Small victories, really.

You didn’t think it was funny, actually. It was the opposite, even. The situation was so sad and dark and hopeless, you were practically shaking with anxiety. You were the one who stuck with silence as an armor, a shelter, a way to process your feelings. He was the one filling that silence with a constant flow of words, he used to say anything, anything at all really.  
Sometime, he would stay quiet too but it was a comfortable silence, not angry or awkward. Not like this one, full of unsaid things and uncertainty. 

“I miss you so much. I don’t think I can do this without you, Henry.” Your voice was already cracking, you could even hear your own despair and raw distress in it. “In fact, I’m sure I can’t. I can’t wake up every morning without you breathing on my neck, I can’t get through the day without your stupid texts full of lame jokes to which I laugh anyway, I can’t go home because it’s not home, not when you’re not cooking, singing some ridiculous old songs while dressing the table for us. I think the worst part of it would be to go to bed without you. Even if your feet are way too cold, even if you’re not clean shaved and your face prickles against my skin, even if you fall asleep like a rock and even if you snore, I can’t imagine myself going into that empty bed of ours.”

Tears were running down your cheeks again but you didn’t bother hiding them. You were too tired of waiting for something, you didn’t even know what. A sign, something, anything. The slight move of an eyelash, a faster heartbeat, the sound of his voice, a twitch of his fingers, a struggle to get rid of the oxygen mask … Really, anything at all would do.  
Anything but his death. That was out of question. 

You sniffed and swallowed, salt invading your mouth because of your tears. 

You’d never said “I love you” to him. 

He had already told you these precious three little words, several times in fact. You remembered all of those times because it was still rare and precious and you cherished them. From the very first time on the beach to that one time a few months ago, when you were both returning from a holiday trip in Europe. You remembered that last one vividly and you didn’t even know why, because it had been so casual, so domestic and almost, almost automatic.

That day, you were sprawled over your bed, still confused by the jet lag and he was sitting next to you against the headbed, a bunch of pillows against his back and a laptop open on his thighs. You smiled because his nerdy glasses were falling from his nose and he had to stop writing every few minutes to push them further up. He seemed very focused and you didn’t even try to bother him, you fell back asleep and he was still there when you woke up, a few hours later. The very low purr of the macbook was familiar and welcome, as well as the sound of Henry’s fingers running over the keyboard with a mixture of force and delicacy. You knew he wasn’t still fully accustomed to this laptop, that you offered to him for his birthday but he was trying. He was so used to his typewriter, which was a gift from one of his blond mother’s friends, that the laptop was frustrating for him but he had to admit it was practical, to travel and write from abroad. He used to handwrite everything and you loved that but you thought it would be a better idea if he could get all of his writing in one place and be able to bring it with him everywhere. 

“Good afternoon, sleepyhead.” You blinked and looked up a little to see him smile. His hair was a mess on the top of his head, his beard showed up a little bit too much to your liking and with his glasses on the tip of his nose, he looked like a true geek but your heart exploded from how much you loved him. You smiled and nuzzled further against him, your nose brushing his hip and you left a kiss on his warm skin, mumbling an indistinct answer. He laughed and that sound echoed for a few seconds in the bedroom, you fully enjoyed it. You had loved that sound since you were six years old and it was synonymous for home, more than any other place in the world. Maybe even more than his arms around you. You mumbled something else against his skin but you were smiling and he saw it. Finally, he closed his laptop, put it on his nightstand and then turned to you, careful not to hurt you as he sank deeper into the bed.  
His weight against you, the warmth of his body, the texture of his skin and the way his arms slid around you was so very familiar and yet, every time, you were surprised. It was like you couldn’t totally believe he was yours. “You slept through the day, do you want something to eat ?” His breath landed on your shoulder and you shivered, almost shocked by the effect he had on you. You had never, never really got used to that. You gently declined his offer and nuzzled again, resting your forehead on his shoulder and whispering “I’m not done sleeping, I think. In fact, I’m going to fall asleep very soon.” Your eyelids were already heavy and you yawned, slowly drifting into a peaceful slumber but you heard him anyway. The echo of his “I love you, Carter Grant” lulled you to sleep, a smile etched on your lips.

You remembered like it was just yesterday and it was shattering your heart in tiny little pieces, because that might have been the last time at all. He might die or stay in a coma forever and you would never be able to hear his voice say those words again. 

You let go of his cheek to clutch his hand, trying not to break his fingers but holding onto it for dear life, literally. 

“Please don’t die on me, Henry. I’ve never been able to tell you how much I need you and it’s destroying me. I know you would say it’s okay, you would tell me that you already know but … I’ve never told you, I’ve never expressed it with words to you. I am always struggling to put words on my feelings for you and I still don’t think there are enough words in any language for me to succeed one day but still. I should have told you, how much you mean to me. I should have tried, at least. You’re the writer, I saw you look for one word for entire hours and I’m always stunned by how right it sounds, how perfectly it fits into your sentence. I had read all of your books before they were even published and I was in awe every single time but ... I don’t know. I mean, I didn’t know how to tell you what I thought about it.”

You extended your other hand to hold onto him tighter, tears still running down your cheeks and then down on your neck.

“I saw how you worked on our vows for the wedding and I was so scared, so embarrassed but mostly sad because I wasn’t able to return the favor to you. I didn’t even tell you that … “

Your voice broke again and you felt so powerless, so vulnerable and miserable. You didn’t understand why you couldn’t say those words to him. You felt those very words in your heart, exploding every time he smiled, every time he laughed, every night when he held you, every morning when he handed you a very hot coffee, every time you kissed him and just … every time, every day, every hour, every minute, all the time. Your heart was filled with a love so strong, so incommensurable it was like it was ripped from your chest and slowly crushed by the wait and the uncertainty, both acting like an invisible hand around the agonizing organ. 

“Gosh, Henry. Don’t die. Just, come back to me, I swear I’ll listen to you this time, every time. I am so, so sorry Henry, I should have remembered, that you were meeting with those friends. I feel so guilty and it’s killing me, I need you to wake up.”

He didn’t move an inch. His hand between your palms was warm but still and motionless. You got angry. You were the one who stuck with silence. Not him. He had no right. No right at all.

“You don’t get to promise me forever and then leave the first time something really bad happens to you. You swung into my life twenty two years ago and it is not nearly enough, you cannot go now. Do you hear me, Henry Grant-Mills-Swan-Danvers ? I had not even realized I’d built my whole life around you until now. I know it sucks that it took me your absence to realize that but I need you to wake up and tell me that. You can be angry at me, you can yell at me, you can even be disappointed in me, I don’t care which one it is as long as you’re alive, awake and looking at me in the eyes. “

Your voice was growing stronger and even as tears were still rolling under your red bloodshot eyes, you gritted your teeth and kept talking, voice low and filled with too many emotions at once.

“I love you, Henry. There. I’ve said it. I hope you’re happy now, that I’ve said your precious three little words under the influence of my anger, because I’m currently yelling at you for being a coward, a quitter, a loser. I didn’t marry such a person, so wake the hell up and fight me about that, do something, say something!”

But your anger was already starting to fade and you suddenly covered your mouth with one hand, the words you pronounced finally hitting your brain. You were so tired, so exhausted, so quartered between hope and despair, always on edge, waiting for something. You just wanted it to be an awful nightmare, you wanted to wake up between Henry’s arms and tell him everything about that bad dream, so he could nurture you, reassure you and lull you back to sleep with his steady, strong and regular heartbeat. 

But this was real and he was the one sleeping, or something like that. Doctors were skeptical and unable to help, they didn’t understand what was going on. Henry should have woken up by now, that’s what they all said. The amount of blood in his brain had decreased enough for him to be out of the woods but his vitals showed no sign of improvement, none whatsoever. He was just…

“ … stable” You whispered, looking at him with a heavy mixture of tenderness and desperation. “I’m sorry, Henry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean any of that. I mean, beside the first words. You know, because I do love you. Gosh, I love you so very much, I still don’t have any words to tell you how much, to express the extent of that love. It’s just there, you know. Sometimes, I don’t think there is room for any other emotion in my heart, you took all of it for yourself, just like that. With your smiles, your jokes, your constant presence and your way to love me. I just need you to wake up and love me again, longer, forever.”

Just as it had been for the last ten days, he didn’t budge at all. That was to be expected. 

You scrubbed a hand over your face to get rid of most of the tears, letting out a resigned sigh. This was pointless, you thought. You watched him, stifling a yawn and trying to fight to stay awake. But sleep was lurking around and it didn’t take long before you reluctantly fell into it, the fingers of your left hand intertwined with Henry’s. 

Another five days flew by very, very slowly. 

On the twelfth day of his coma, the doctor came in to remove the oxygen mask but he told you it wasn’t really a good sign, not without any other brain activity. You reverted back to this silence you once chose, when you thought your mothers were about to get a divorce. Your media mogul mother had seemed to understand but the superhero one had sometimes been trying to get you to talk. In vain.

You were watching through the window, on Henry’s fifteenth day of coma, admiring the lighting as the sun went down behind the higher buildings of National City. It had become your favorite show these days.  
When the light was finally all gone from your city, you turned your attention back to the room, only to fall into a pair of tired but sparkling brown eyes.  
Then, you heard a voice you thought you’d never be able to hear again say :

“Hi, Little Grant”

...

_One look at you; my whole life falls in line._  
_I prayed for you; before I called you mine._  
_I can’t believe it’s true, sometimes._  
_I can’t believe it’s true._

_I get to love you, it’s the best thing that I’ll ever do._  
_I get to love you, it’s a promise I’m making to you._  
_Whatever may come; your heart I will choose._  
_Forever I’m yours, forever I do._  
_I get to love you, I get to love you._

_The way you love, it changes who I am._  
_I am undone and I thank God once again._  
_I can’t believe it’s true, sometimes._  
_I can’t believe it’s true._

_I get to love you, it’s the best thing that I’ll ever do._  
_I get to love you, it’s a promise I’m making to you._  
_Whatever may come; your heart I will choose._  
_Forever I’m yours, forever I do._

**THE END**

  


**Author's Note:**

> Alright, how was it ?
> 
>   
> I'm **lost-your-memory** on tumblr, you can always find me there and leave ideas for what you would like to read next. The third piece is already planned but there will be more, so ... I'll see you there !
> 
>   
>  _Reviews are always nice_   
> 


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